


Last Call

by bearonthecouch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol, Change in Relationship Status, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: “Why am I doing this, Roy?”Mustang's stomach clenches and he shakes his head, the only way he knows how to voice 'I don't know,' or 'Don't ask me,' or, more simply, 'Don't.'





	Last Call

“So,” Roy muses, from behind a classy highball glass, “you're getting married tomorrow.”

Hughes scrubs his face with his hands and frowns into his own glass, which is temporarily empty. He leans back in his seat and gives Roy a look that is honestly kind of pathetic. And he accuses _Roy_ of having puppy dog eyes.

“Why am I doing this, Roy?”

Mustang's stomach clenches and he shakes his head, the only way he knows how to voice 'I don't know,' or 'Don't ask me,' or, more simply, 'Don't.' But what he says, very softly, is “You're doing this because you love Gracia.”

“Yeah,” Hughes agrees. His voice is hoarse and haunted, and Roy is aware – every minute, heartbeat, breath aware – that they haven't seen each other since Ishval, a month ago, a world away.

“Roy, c'mere,” Hughes whines. Mustang has never been able to resist him. He slides into Hughes' side of the booth and shivers as Hughes' warm, strong fingers slide under his shirt, splayed against his skin. Hughes presses a kiss to the back of Roy's neck.

“You're getting married,” Roy reminds him.

“Fuck's sake, Mustang, I _know_ that.”

Roy nods, and holds his breath as he lets Maes hold him.

And Maes Hughes, who normally can't shut up to save his life, doesn't ask Roy how he's been, or ask about Riza, or ask about Mustang's new assignment, just days old, in some new unit that's supposed to be tracking down alchemists for the military to recruit. Hughes doesn't mention Gracia, or say anything about where he's been for the past month. He doesn't say a word.

Roy squirms against him and then turns around, sliding back in the booth so that his back is pressed against the wall. But he doesn't move out of Hughes' reach, or let the comforting contact of the touch break.

Maes' fingers rest on Roy's arm, where his rolled-up sleeve makes the scars of Ishval visible.

Roy bites his lip and shakes his head slightly. “Hughes...” he breathes.

Hughes took care of him in the desert, and at the academy when he was still adjusting to the idea that someone might take his optimistic ambition seriously.

The first time they had sex was after Roy's hesitation on the shooting range kept their class there for hours, being screamed at and berated when Roy flinched at the sound of gunfire, every time he squeezed the trigger. Until Hughes reached over to surreptitiously run his fingers over Roy's hand, the touch providing comfort and reassurance and confidence.

By the time the drill sergeant was satisfied with Roy's ability to shoot on command, they'd all missed dinner. Maes had to step in when four of the other cadets ganged up on Mustang in a shadowed alley behind the dorms, where no one was watching. Or maybe the drill sergeant figured Roy needed a little toughening up, and that a 4-on-1 fight might be just the way to go about it. A 4-on-2 fight was not much better, and Roy and Maes ended up getting patched up in the infirmary and put on restriction. They almost landed in front of the discipline board, except that it was obvious they didn't start the brawl.

And when Roy got back to his bunk and sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, angry at the world and at himself and feeling like a failure, Maes proved him wrong.

And now, Hughes is looking at him for reassurance, and Roy's heart is, if not broken, at least bruised. But he wants Maes to be happy. Maes can be happy with Gracia in a way that would never be allowed between the two of them.

Roy leans his head on Maes' shoulder and lets him play with his hair. Roy can feel Maes breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“You still having nightmares, Mustang?”

Roy sits up, suddenly tense. “Aren't you?”

“Yeah,” Maes admits, after a long pause.

“Gracia doesn't know?”

Maes shakes his head. “I can't dump all this shit on her, Roy. I can't...” he squeezes his eyes shut, and his tension is evident in the way he kicks his leg under the table and drums his fingers on the bench seat. He leans his head back and opens his eyes and sighs heavily. Roy thinks he understands how Maes feels, but he doesn't really, because he doesn't have to hide the darkness of Ishval from Riza or Maes. They were there.

“You're still the same man she fell in love with,” Roy says quietly.

“How can you say that?”

“Because you're still the same man _I_ fell in love with. Fuck, Hughes, the only reason I survived Ishval – the only reason I survive anything – is you.”

“And Riza,” Hughes murmurs. Roy reaches out to rest his palm on Maes' thigh. He just shakes his head, but Maes just rolls his eyes and keeps talking. “Come on, Roy, you can't pretend you don't have feelings for Riza. Any idiot can see that you love her.”

“You love Gracia,” Roy offers as an argument. When Maes doesn't answer, Roy sighs and picks up his hand. “Riza's complicated,” he says as he rests his elbows on his knees.

“Because you knew her when you were kids?”

“Because I made her a lot of promises I couldn't keep.”

In the dimly lit bar that is his childhood home, out of uniform, Roy is trying very hard not to be the Flame Alchemist. He can't ever get away from that label and that responsibility with Riza.

“Calm down, Mustang.”

Roy is scowling, but he shakes his head. “I'm calm.”

“That vein at your temple is pulsing.” Before Roy can push him away, Hughes kisses that temple. He rubs Roy's back in slow circles.

“I'm not _five_ ,” Roy protests.

“If you don't let someone take care of you, you're going to work yourself to death before you ever become Fuhrer.”

“Hughes. You're getting married tomorrow. Why are we talking about my work habits?” He grabs their two glasses and extricates himself from Maes' closeness. “I'm getting us more drinks.”

He returns a few minutes later with two still-empty glasses and a bottle of whiskey, which he immediately opens. He drinks straight out of the bottle, then hands it to Maes.

“Your aunt's giving away the top shelf liquor?”

“Only to me. And you. She likes you.”

Maes grins that grin that Roy can't resist and almost laughs. Most people like Maes. He has that effect on people.

They're not exactly planning to finish the bottle, but they're pretty far into it nevertheless by the time Chris announces last call. There is one last rush of movement, and then the bar empties out and Maes and Roy are left mostly alone in their corner booth.

“I'm still getting married tomorrow. Today.” Maes' words are slurred and his unfocused gaze locks onto Roy as though he's holding on for dear life.

“I know,” Roy says softly. His alcohol tolerance is much higher than Maes', but even so, he's still obviously drunk. He feels warm, and comfortably sleepy.

Maes presses himself closer to Roy's body, and almost before Roy realizes what's happening, Maes is tugging at the waistband of his pants and planting random kisses all over his body. Roy squirms away as Maes' lips trail the neckline of his shirt.

Roy traps Maes' wrist with his right hand, and rests his left on Maes' cheek, gently urging him to meet his eyes.

“Roy, please,” Maes whines.

“Are you sure?” Maes doesn't answer, but Roy sighs anyway. “Let's go upstairs.”

It feels like mere seconds pass before Maes is pushing Roy down on the bed and unbuttoning his shirt. Roy loses himself to Maes' ministrations the same way he always has. The drunken haze makes it easier to relax. Somehow, up here, it doesn't seem to matter that Maes is getting married in a handful of hours.

There's kissing and sex, like at the academy, like in Ishval. Maes has always known how to make Roy feel good. He keeps coming back, too, so Roy must be doing something right. Roy thinks “I love you,” while Maes is kissing him and holding him and crying with need and then relief. The two of them lay on the bed after the sex is finished. Roy thinks “I love you” but doesn't say it. He never has, even though Maes has several times. It doesn't seem fair for Roy's first time declaration to come now, on the night Maes is about to get married. Maes knows him well enough to understand, anyway.

Maes kisses Roy's neck and runs his fingers through his hair, until Mustang has drifted off to sleep. Then Maes goes off in search of a shower. He stands under the hot water for some indeterminate length of time, and barely bothers to towel off before he wanders back to Roy. He stands in the doorway of the room, pulling a shirt over his still-damp skin, and watching Mustang sleep, glad that he doesn't seem to be fighting off a nightmare, for once. He desperately wants to stay, but... he has to go home.

Roy is many things, but stable has never been one of them. He disappears for months or even years without telling anyone. He slips into periods of silent focus that can last for hours or days, so intense that Maes can't break through, and then he comes out of them and acts like nothing weird has happened. He doesn't exactly lie about anything, but he keeps his life compartmentalized, and Maes knows nothing about the compartments he is not in. Most of these quirks Maes dismisses as just part of the package when your best friend (boyfriend?) is an alchemist. He loves these things because without them Roy wouldn't be Roy. But Maes needs safety and calm and someone who can take care of him, sometimes. He loves Roy Mustang, but sometimes it feels like all he does is pull him from the brink. Ishval was hell for both of them, something they've both silently agreed to never talk about if they can help it. Maes wants Roy to be Fuhrer, and to find happiness with Hawkeye the same way he's content with Gracia. Maes knows that Roy will always be his best friend, but they can't – they _can't –_ be anything more than that.

Maes sighs heavily as Mustang shifts in his sleep. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. He wishes this didn't feel so much like grieving, like a permanent loss. He runs his hand through his wet hair, and shuts the door quietly behind him.

 


End file.
